


the creature in the deep

by skuls



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Case Fic, Episode: s03e22 Quagmire, F/M, Post-Episode: s03e23 Wetwired, Season/Series 03, Unresolved Sexual Tension, XF Cryptid Challenge 19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 04:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: In the aftermath of Scully’s mind control via television, she and Mulder depart to Norway to investigate the Kraken.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for @wtfmulder‘s cryptid challenge. it got overly long, so i decided to post in parts. i did lots of different research for this story, including research on the kraken (https://cryptidz.fandom.com/wiki/Kraken, https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kraken_in_popular_culture, https://www.visitnorway.com/places-to-go/northern-norway/the-lofoten-islands/, https://www.google.com/amp/s/theconversation.com/amp/the-real-life-origins-of-the-legendary-kraken-52058). (i unfortunately lost several tabs of research to a phone malfunction.) this story is set in the lofoten islands of norway, and i apologize profoundly if i’ve made any inaccuracies.
> 
> this is set after quagmire and wetwired in the late stages of season 3. warning up front for some minor violence, discussion of death, and references to the plot of quagmire/wetwired, dod kalm, and other show plot points.

_“Below the thunders of the upper deep,_

_Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,_

_His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep_

_The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee_

_About his shadowy sides; above him swell_

_Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;_

_And far away into the sickly light,_

_From many a wondrous grot and secret cell_

_Unnumbered and enormous polypi_

_Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green._

_There hath he lain for ages, and will lie_

_Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,_

_Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;_

_Then once by man and angels to be seen,_

_In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.”_

_—_ [The Kraken, _Alfred Lord Tennyson_](https://poets.org/poem/kraken)

 

**one.**

_Dear Agents Mulder and Scully,_

_My name is Mary Kellerman. I currently reside in the Lofoten region along the coast of Norway. I was inspired to contact you due to your involvement in the incidents upon the USS Ardent a year prior. I read about the death of Henry Trondheim on that boat, as well as the advanced aging of the sailors on board and the articles written by Agent Scully on the phenomena. I also found a lot of information on the unit you run in the United States. These credentials led me to believe that you might be able to help me._

_Although I was born in the United States, I have lived in Norway for a great many years. My husband, Richard, was in the Coast Guard during the war in Vietnam, and he wished to move to Lofoten for the excellent fishing opportunities after his time there ended. We moved here with our son, Jacob, and made a good life for ourselves. Richard bought a little boat, and spent the majority of the winters here fishing for cod off the coast. But his interests were unfortunately not limited to fishing. Upon hearing the legends of the fishing population, my husband descended into an obsessive state, spending much of his time searching for the mysterious stories of the sea. In particular, one._

_I am sure that the both of you, having investigated many mythological creatures, are familiar with the Kraken of Jules Verne and ancient maritime lore. This is the creature which most intrigued Richard. It is said that the Kraken inhabits the waters around Norway, and many of the fishermen friends that he made spoke of sighting the creature. My husband became terribly interested in seeing it himself, and this interest descended into obsession the longer he went without seeing it._

_I am writing to you because I fear that my husband has finally found the Kraken, and that the encounter did not end well. Two weeks ago, Richard went out on a fishing trip alone, and he did not return. I have had no contact with him since his disappearance, nor has my son, and none of his friends or acquaintances have either. Frankly, I am terrified at the prospect of his disappearance, and what it might mean. I don't believe that he would've drowned, or had any other kind of boating accident, and I'm at a loss to explain it any other way. I know that the idea of a Kraken taking Richard sounds ridiculous, but it is the only thing that makes sense. The day my husband left was a stormy one, and the men always say that the Kraken will come with storms and maelstroms._

_I'm contacting you with the hope that you can help me to figure out what happened to Richard. Even if he is dead, I want to understand why. With your history in the FBI, I think you are the best suited to determine whether or not the Kraken is real, and what role it has in all of this. I know that Norway is far outside the United States, and that we have law enforcement of our own, but they will not investigate the possibility of what they believe is a mythological creature. I would be very grateful if you could help me to find the truth._

_Sincerely,_

_Mary Kellerman_

\---

The case caught her off guard.

Scully wasn't entirely sure it was even a _case_ , since the people involved were Norwegian citizens now, not Americans; Skinner would probably be furious when he found out. They wouldn't have any jurisdiction or power over there, they would be glorified tourists. But Mulder had talked her into it, somehow. Offered to pay for her plane ticket, convinced her that there likely wasn't any _crime_ involved, and it would be like a research trip. And she'd found herself unable to say no, guilt still thick in the back of her throat. How the hell could she say no?

Of all the cases she thought she might work on the X-Files, this one _had_ thrown her off, if only because she had no desire to go back to Norway after almost dying of old age on a boat, and she wouldn’t have thought that Mulder would, either. The ironic part was that she was probably going to end up on a goddamn boat again. Of course.

They had come to the airport two and a half weeks after her release from the hospital. She'd felt fine since the second or third day, but she had been as reluctant as Mulder to take another case. She had been worried about flying off the handle, losing control, hurting Mulder again, and for real this time. She could feel the paranoia still lodged at the base of her spine, crawling and shivery. She felt unsafe in her own skin, and consistently embarrassed around Mulder, even though he'd been incredibly understanding about the whole thing. It felt like a sickening reversal of the Modell situation a few months ago, one she had hoped she would never experience. Now she felt like she understood what Mulder had been going through, except that this situation felt worse. They had both aimed a gun at each other and nearly pulled the trigger, but Mulder's actions hadn't been his own. Hers had. Hers had, poisonous manipulative substance in her blood or not. And she could've hurt him again.

She was trying not to think about it and mostly failing. Her neck was hot with embarrassment. She and Mulder waited for their flight in a cluster of chairs near the gate, Mulder flipping through research he'd printed out at the office and Scully staring down at her knotted hands. She hated the awkwardness, the distance between them.

"The Kraken appeared in _Moby-Dick_ , didn't it?" said Mulder lightly from beside her.

Scully cleared her throat, a little surprised. "Yes, I suppose it did," she said. "I'd forgotten about that."

Mulder gave her a grin, nudging her shoulder. "Melville knew what he was talking about, huh?"

She caught onto what he was doing and couldn't suppress her eyeroll. "Mulder, are you trying to use _Moby-Dick_ references to convince me that this creature is real?"

He shrugged innocently. "Worth a try, right?"

She nudged him lightly, feeling simultaneously relieved at the light exchange between them and slightly annoyed at the mention of _Moby-Dick._ After Queequeg, after everything that had happened that night, she didn't exactly want to discuss the book. "Mulder, the idea of a 'Kraken' is inane," she said. "The legend arose from sightings of large squids before anyone knew what a giant squid was. Ergo, there is a scientific explanation for the whole phenomena."

"The Kraken was said to be able to devour entire crews and destroy their ships, to bring a whirlpool that dragged them under," Mulder said in a faux-mysterious tone, perhaps trying to be funny. "Can a giant squid do that in your experience, Dr. Scully?"

"I am hardly an expert on marine wildlife, Mulder." She looked back down at her hands, still clenched in her lap. "But we know so little about life in the ocean. There is so much unexplored, and therefore inevitably species we know nothing about. There's a possibility that a species of giant squid exists that is large enough to… generate such effects."

She didn't know why she felt so awkward. She didn't know why this felt so odd. Mulder was perfectly fine, he didn't seem mad at her at all. And she'd forgiven him in no time at all after Modell, when the position was reversed; she’d known instantly that it wasn’t his fault. But she didn't feel right about this, about being here with him. Being his confidante when she'd suspected him so easily of betrayal. It had already been such a long month, with Queequeg and the situation with the TVs, and soon Melissa… She bit her lip hard. She didn't want to think about these things. She wanted things to be fucking _normal_ between them, but guilt and resentment and confusion and affection were tangled up in her mind, and she couldn't separate them. Every word felt stilted. She wanted to apologize. She kept thinking of the moment in her mother's living room where she accused him of killing her sister.

Mulder nudged her shoulder gently. "That's all monsters are, aren't they? A species that hasn't been found yet."

Over the intercom, she heard the announcement of their flight. She got to her feet and fell into step beside Mulder, shoulder to shoulder. Her neck was hot again. "If you say so, Mulder," she replied softly, and caught his small grin out of the corner of her eye.

\---

On the plane, she slept, the way she'd been sleeping at home: curled into an instinctively protective ball. She dreamed of a dark room, two silvery gun muzzles and her hand curled around one, smoke on her tongue. Mulder's face dim and shadowy on the other side. She could see his face and she couldn't see it, and he was pointing a gun at her, but she still pulled the trigger first. She could see tears on his cheeks.

When she woke up, leaning heavily on Mulder's shoulder unintentionally, she was shaking. Mulder was asleep, too, his arm resting lazily across her back. She wondered if he'd fallen asleep before or after she'd leaned on him, when he’d put his arm that way.

She balled her hands into fists and sat up, her spine straight, her muscles tight. She clenched her jaw and let her head rest against the cool window of the plane.

\---

 When they landed, it was gray and rainy, cold enough that it left Scully reaching for her jacket. "Wet day," Mulder said dryly, shaking his own jacket over his shoulders.

"Cold day." Scully folded her arms around herself, shivering a little. "Should've expected this."

Mulder nudged her with one elbow. "I'll buy you some coffee," he said gently. "Warm you up."

He'd been acting like that ever since the hospital. Like _he_ had something to make up to her. She smiled at him, and it felt lopsided, odd. They fell into step together, their suitcases dragging behind them.

They were met at the airport by a small woman wearing a knit cap and holding up a sign that read _FBI agents Mulder and Scully_. When they began towards her, she blushed a little and tucked the sign under one arm. As they grew closer, she held out an introductory hand and said apologetically, "Sorry, I thought this might be the best way to find you." Her accent was American, with the slightest lilt to it. She gave them a bright smile.

"That's just fine," Mulder said, shaking her hand. "I'm Agent Fox Mulder, and this is Dana Scully."

"Mary Kellerman." She took Scully's hand and shook it politely.

"I'm not sure how much the Agent applies in this situation," said Scully, smiling at Mary. "Considering we're in another country."

"But we'll be happy to help with whatever we can," Mulder added.

"Oh, good." Mary beamed. "Come along, and I can drive you to your hotel so you can get settled in. I can take your bags, if you’d like."

"Oh, we're happy to take them," Scully said immediately, and Mulder nodded. They began to follow Mary out of the airport.

"I thought perhaps you could go out on my husband's boat," said Mary, looking over her shoulder at them as they went. "My son can take you. You could look for evidence on board and see if anything is out of the ordinary… maybe travel his usual route…"

"You mean you have the boat he was on when he disappeared?" Mulder asked, his tone betraying his surprise. "It's intact?"

Mary looked back in equal surprise. "Yes, it floated back into the harbor a few days after Richard left," she said, her hands knotted together. "Why is that surprising to you, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder looked a little uncomfortable. "It's just that… every story I've heard about the Kraken ended in the destruction of the vessel," he said. "But of course, that part might just be legend."

Scully was tempted to point out that the whole _story_ was probably just a legend. But she didn't. The last thing she wanted to do was dash this woman's hope of finding her husband, or at least finding out what happened to him. She looked uncomfortable enough at what Mulder had said, her face crumpling with confusion and grief. "I want so badly to find Richard alive, but I'm afraid to even hope…" she said softly.

Scully spoke up then. "I think that's a good idea, going out on the ship with your son," she said. She didn't know what she was doing, other than knowing she wanted to assure this woman that they'd find out what happened to her husband. It was the assurence she'd wanted to hear a year ago, and no one had told her that but Mulder.

Mary's face smoothed out a bit and she took a deep breath, lowering the stiff sign in her hands. "If you think it's a good idea," she said briskly.

"I do," said Scully. "If we examine the boat, or take the route he would've normally taken, than we might be able to find something."

"I agree," Mulder added, and she sensed he was also thinking, _And we can figure out why the ship survived._ Scully ignored that prospect.

Mary nodded, offering an unsteady smile. "Good. I'll introduce you to Jacob after the hotel."

She led them the rest of the way out of the airport. Mulder, true to his word, stopped on the way out and bought them both coffee.

\---

The hotel was a fairly nice place, with vibrant views of the water from their rooms. The kind of thing Scully instantly appreciated. Maybe she'd sleep a little better looking out on the ocean.

But then she looked at the lamp and thought about taking it apart, looking for bugs, about the way she'd torn apart the last hotel she had been in, and her spine crawled. She couldn't leave the room fast enough.

She met Mulder in front of the hotel, salty breeze nudging her hair, cold bite in the air. He smiled broadly as soon as he saw her. "Room okay?"

"Yes," she said, still awkward and still hating herself for it. "It’s wonderful. Thank you, Mulder."

Mary Kellerman's car pulled up at the curb at this moment, and they climbed in. Mulder was riding in the front seat, talking to Mary about stories he'd heard about the Kraken, sightings he'd read about. Scully sat in the back, trying not to point out every different reason for Richard Kellerman's disappearance aside from a nonexistent sea creature. He had probably fallen overboard and hit his headt. She looked down at her hands in her lap, at her rough knuckles. When she shut her eyes, she still saw her fingers wrapped around the muzzle of a gun.

Mary Kellerman lived in a little house down by the ocean. The kind of house you read about fisherman having in storybooks, a squat white cottage. "Your home is beautiful," Scully said, and she meant it. It was the kind of place her parents had talked about retiring when they were younger.

"Thank you," Mary said, her voice wobbling a bit. She parked in a stony driveway and said, "I'll show you inside."

They followed Mary inside, who unlocked the door with a little squid-shaped keychain. "Come in, come in." She motioned them in. "I'm sure it's much warmer where you came from than here."

The entryway to the house was tiny and cramped, the floorboards creaking under their feet. They must have been loud; a younger man appeared in the door to the hallway almost immediately, staring at Mulder and Scully in confused surprise. "Mom?" he said, his accent heavier than Mary's. "What's going on? Who are these people?"

"Jacob," Mary said warmly. "These are FBI agents from the United States. They specialize in paranormal cases. They're here to help us find your father."

"Americans?" Jacob replied incredulously. "What could they do— _paranormal cases,_ Mom? You're not seriously believing those stories of Dad's, are you?"

"There's a great deal of evidence," Mary said. "Most of the recorded sightings happened _in_ the Norwegian Sea…"

"Why would you do this without telling me? I could've taken care of it."

"Jacob, I really believe they will be able to help. They were on that boat from last year, the one with the sped-up aging… don't you remember, I showed you the article?"

"Yes, I remember," he said, clearly annoyed. "I just do not understand what you think they can do about this. The FBI has no power here."

Mulder decided to speak up, stepping forward to speak to Jacob. "Mr. Kellerman, Agent Scully and I have investigated a lot of cases dealing with phenomena similar to this," he offered. "With some investigating, we may be able to determine whether or not the Kraken was responsible for your father's disappearance…"

"I don't believe in those kinds of things," Jacob blurted, his face turning red. "I-I don't believe in that silliness… I feel as if this is a waste of time."

"Darling, we need to do this," Mary said, gently but firmly. "I need to know what happened to your father, and I know you want the same."

"The police…" Jacob offered.

"The police are looking for your father, but they won't look for the Kraken. These people will."

Scully couldn't help but agree with Jacob's comment about the worthwhileness of investigating a legendary creature, but she still didn't want to express her feelings on the subject. Especially after telling Mary that they'd go out on the boat with Jacob. So she offered, "I'm a forensic pathologist. Even if there was no supernatural cause of your father's disappearance, we might still be able to explain it with forensic evidence."

Jacob's face paled, swaying a bit in place. "All of you… you're talking about him like he's already dead," he spit. "He may not be dead, you know." He turned on his heel and stormed out, his hands shaking as he went.

"I'm so sorry," Mary said as soon as he was gone. "I… I'll talk to him. I can convince him…"

"We understand," Mulder said. And Scully supposed they really fucking did. If anyone understood it, it was them. Within a couple weeks, it would be a full year since she buried her sister.

"It's difficult," she added, her voice suddenly husky.

Mary blinked hard, reaching up to wipe her eyes. "I… I will talk to him," she said determinedly. "Excuse me for a moment, please." She disappeared, following Jacob out of the entryway, and then it was just Mulder and Scully in the small space.

Scully cleared her throat, looking down at her feet. She reminded herself that Mulder, too, had lost people, had lost his father a year before. This was probably as hard for him as it was for her. She cleared her throat again. "Do… do you really think it was the Kraken, Mulder?" she said in a soft voice.

He cleared his throat, too. "I couldn't say." When she looked up at him in surprise, he shrugged. "Well, we've seen very little evidence towards the case overall. The experience that Richard Kellerman had as a fisherman suggests that his death wasn't an accident. And the Kraken _is_ native to these waters." He raised his eyebrows mischievously at her, to which she just rolled her eyes. "But…" he added, a bit reluctantly. "The fact that the ship was intact makes me suspicious. Even if the Kraken doesn't destroy ships, as legend suggests… I find it unlikely that the boat would survive completely unscathed."

Scully scoffed a little. "Glad to see you talking some sense," she said with a small smile. "Mulder, I think it's likely that Kellerman's disappearance was due to some sort of natural accident. Maybe he fell overboard… o-or maybe he left purposefully. Maybe he wanted to run off and leave his family, and so he decided to fake a maritime accident…" She broke off mid-sentence when she heard rising voices. Mary and Jacob Kellerman, arguing. She flinched, involuntarily, and looked away from Mulder. She was thinking of her mother, of the strange tension between them over the past year; she could remember the moment when she came to her senses after confronting Mulder at gunpoint, slumped in her mother's arms, and she remembered realizing in that moment that she couldn't remember the last time her mother had hugged her. She'd gotten affectionate kisses on the cheek, affectionate pats on the shoulder, but she couldn't remember the last hug. She shut her eyes, her face still tipped downwards.

"Scully?" Mulder's voice cut through her stupor. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head hard, forcing a smile. "I'm fine," she said. But he didn't particularly look like he believed her.

\---

In the end, Mary Kellerman convinced her son to take them out on the boat. "Just sail his usual route, and let them look around," she'd told Jacob before they left. "If it comes to nothing, I'll let it go. I promise."

Jacob didn't look the happiest about it, but he'd agreed. Outside at the car, he told them, "I'm doing this for my mom, okay? Just for her. You can do whatever you want, tell her whatever you want."

Neither of them had said anything to that, but Mulder had met her eyes before getting into the car, and they'd seemed to come to an agreement: they were going to find out what happened to Richard Kellerman, for his wife if no one else.

Jacob suggested that they talk to some fisherman down at the docks while he prepared the boat. "If you're really looking for the Kraken," he said, his tone betraying disgust as he parked near the docks, "they'll be able to tell you what to look for."

"Friends of your father's?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah. Right down there." Jacob waved a hand towards two men down near the water, bent over what looked like a crab pot. "Come on, and I'll introduce you." He began walking towards the dock with purposeful, irritable strides, leaving Mulder and Scully to follow.

They'd barely stepped onto the dock when Scully was being knocked back by a large, shaggy sheepdog, grinning joyfully, huge pink tongue hanging from his mouth. "Whoa, there," said Mulder, supporting her by a hand to her lower back to keep her from falling into the water

"Cetus!" Jacob scolded automatically, reaching out to drag the dog back by the scruff of his neck. "Get down! I'm sorry," he said to Scully.

"Oh, no, it's okay," Scully said with a nervous little laugh. Aside from the dog at one of the crime scenes on their last case, she hadn't been near a dog since Queequeg. Her throat tightened predictably, and she crouched by the dog to scratch the top of his head. He was much bigger than Queequeg, but he seemed to have similar mannerisms, panting happily and staring at her with huge brown eyes.

"He was a dog that followed my father around," said Jacob. "Named after the monster that Perseus slayed… he's a bit of a monster himself. He's a stray, technically; Dad could never bring him home because my mother is allergic. He lives at the docks and liked to go out on the ship with Dad… he was actually on the boat when it showed up in the harbor."

Cetus grinned a toothy grin as Scully scratched behind his ears, swallowing hard and smiling involuntarily at him. "He's very sweet," she said thickly.

"He's a troublemaker," Jacob said dismissively. "He'll probably follow you around all day… we won't be able to keep him off the boat."

Mulder leaned down to scratch the dog's back, in a way that left his leg moving in a pleasured phantom scratching motion. A smile tugged at the edges of Scully's lips before she remembered Queequeg, and reality came crashing back. She stroked Cetus's head one more time before standing and dusting off her knees. "So your father's friends?" she asked.

"Right." Jacob started off towards the men, and they went behind him. The click of toenails on the dock confirmed Jacob's claim: Cetus was right on their tails.

Jacob gave them a lukewarm introduction, offering only the last names of the fishermen—Helsing and Weberg—and telling the men, "These are Americans my mother wants to find the Kraken. She thinks that's what made Dad disappear." He stalked off towards a small boat at the end of the dock, leaving Cetus looking confusedly between Jacob and Mulder and Scully, as if he wasn't sure who to stay with.

"We're… FBI agents," Mulder clarified, extending a hand to shake with the fishermen. "We work on a unit that investigates unexplained phenomena… We investigated a ship in the Norwegian Sea whose passengers were afflicted by accelerated aging… I think that was what inspired Mrs. Kellerman to contact us."

"Oh, yes," the man introduced as Helsing said, shaking Scully's hand. "We've heard about that as well. A strange thing."

"The sea is a mysterious place," Weberg added.

It sounded like something Scully's father would've said. She cleared her throat awkwardly and asked, "Did you see Richard Kellerman the day he disappeared?" Cetus nudged her leg with his nose, as if he recognized the name.

Both men shook their heads. "I saw Richard the night before, when I was getting back from a fishing trip," Weberg offered. "We had a drink. We talked. Everything did seem normal to me."

"I saw him several days prior," said Helsing. "Mary reported his disappearance, I believe, when Richard failed to return in the normal amount of time. Lots of people have been looking, including us, and there has not been a sign of him."

"Do you have any theories as to what caused Kellerman's disappearance?" she pressed, hoping fruitlessly for an alternate theory and knowing it probably wouldn't come.

Her instincts were correct. Weberg's spine straightened in an almost defensive manner, and he said briskly, "Richard was good at what he did. The best. He would not be irresponsible or do anything to cause his own demise. Fall off or anything silly like that."

"I cannot explain his disappearance," Helsing added. "But… I can say that the monster makes a lot of sense as a culprit. If I remember correctly, Richard set out on a stormy day, and the beast accompanies the storms."

"It comes with the mist," Weberg added. "The mist and the maelstroms."

Mulder, who'd been quiet for almost suspiciously long (giving her an opportunity to ask her questions, she guessed), finally spoke, an eager gleam in his eyes. "Can you tell me what you know about the Kraken?" Cetus huffed, as if sharing in Scully's weariness to this theory, and sat down abruptly.

"I met a man rumored to have seen it once," Weberg said, his eyebrows lifting. "Swore he saw tentacles the size of his ship, emerging from the deep."

"It does not come to the shallows," Helsing put in. "Only the deep. The darkest regions of the ocean. It stays there, and surfaces only to hunt. To _feed._ "

"Some say it brings the storms with it," Weberg said, "and the mist, to cloak it from sight, until it is too light. It will try to trap the sailors, and drag them overboard into its waiting jaws. But if they become too hard to subdue, it will pull the ship down with a maelstrom. They say if the Kraken has you in its clutches, you will not escape."

Mulder's eyes were wide with interest. "Have the two of you ever seen it?"

They both shook their hands again. "I don't believe we would have survived the encounter," Helsing said.

"And you think this is what happened to Richard Kellerman," Scully said. "That he met the Kraken?"

The two men exchanged a look. Weberg shrugged. Helsing said, "It does make sense. Much more sense than Richard having some sort of accident."

"Richard's boat floated back to shore completely intact, right?" Mulder asked. The men nodded. "That struck me as unusual when I heard about it," he said. "Everything I've read suggests the Kraken destroys the vessels it attacks."

Weberg shrugged again. "Maybe it does, or maybe it does not," said Helsing. "But there is really no way of knowing for sure."

\---

"I'm not sure any of what they said qualifies as proof that the Kraken was responsible," Scully said matter-of-factly, standing beside Mulder at the railing of the boat. It was a fairly small boat, a trawler with a great deal of charm, called the Nautilus. ("After the boat in _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea,_ " Mulder told her, "a book which features the appearance of the Kraken…" and she'd rolled her eyes and replied, "I know, Mulder.") They were in the process of leaving the harbor, Jacob Kellerman inside and in the process of steering the boat. Cetus was on board, lying lazily across the deck at their feet, having followed them on with a delighted bark and received only an eye roll from Jacob in response.

"They pointed out that Kellerman was an experienced fisherman and unlikely to have an accident," Mulder said stubbornly. "And the storm…"

"Storms are a normal pattern of weather," she said, gesturing emphatically at the gray sky. The drizzling had stopped briefly between their arrival at Mary's house and leaving for the docks, but it looked as if it might start again, and harder. "And accidents can happen to anyone, Mulder, even the most experienced. That's why they call them accidents."

He made a face at her, leaning leisurely on the rail. "Okay," he said. "Let's say Kellerman had an accident, fell off the boat, and drowned. Where's the body? Why did it never reappear? How did the boat end up back at the harbor, but the body didn't?"

"First of all, the ocean is enormous, Mulder. A lot of the people who are lost at sea are never found; their bodies are never recovered. And second of all, I find it slightly odd that the boat even ended up back at the harbor. It seems like an unlikely coincidence, but I suppose I could understand it. Maybe the winds blew it that way."

"Huh." He raised an eyebrow in what was possibly an imitation of her. “So you believe that a boat _coincidentally_ floated back to shore, with no aid from outside sources, but you can’t buy the idea that an undiscovered giant squid might also be responsible for Kellerman’s disappearance?”

She sighed. “Mulder, I can honestly buy the giant squid explanation to a point. Like we discussed on the plane, it’s possible that the so-called Kraken people are seeing _is_ just an undiscovered species. What I can’t buy is the idea that this supposed animal can cause changes in the weather and deadly whirlpools. And I don’t want to dismiss the idea that Kellerman went missing out of natural circumstances or some sort of accident. We have very little evidence suggesting a squid attack.”

There was a stretch of silence; the only sounds were the waves of the sea nudging up against the boat, and a sudden gust of wind, howling as it hit with a ferocity that suggested the incoming precipitation would be more than a drizzle. The wind whipped Scully’s hair wildly, and she pulled up the hood of the windbreaker she’d worn, anticipating the possibility of being near or on the ocean. Cetus whimpered and pressed his cold nose against Scully’s leg; she bent down to scratch his head. Her chest was tight again. (They’d done this routine about a thousand times, and her response rarely varied, but this time felt different for some reason. He was teasing her, mostly, and doing exactly what he always did, but her response still felt overly harsh, and it made no sense.)

“Maybe the Kraken doesn’t _cause_ the weather,” said Mulder finally, his voice still light. He clearly hadn’t thought much of it. “Maybe it just surfaces when the weather is appropriate.”

Scully cleared her throat and gestured out at the choppy waves, the darkening sky. “Well, Mulder, this looks like the perfect day for it,” she said.

Silence fell over them for another moment. Mulder looked back out at the sea, the dim and distant horizon. It was strange to be out at sea with him again, on this sea, where the two of them had nearly died together (not for the first time and not for the last). She thought of the dark crater of that boat, the nasty concoction she'd put together to keep him alive, and then she was thinking of that rock in the lake, and she found she couldn't look at him anymore. She looked down at the green-gray water.

Cetus whimpered again, and began to paw at the leg of Scully's pants with his large paws. It was a surprise, at first, because she was still used to Queequeg's tiny stature; she hadn't had a dog this big since med school. She turned and bent down to pet the dog, looking into his mournful brown eyes.

"What are we going to do with this mutt on here?" Mulder asked from behind her.

Scully didn't look up. She stroked the top of Cetus's head in a rhythmic motion, hoping to comfort him, but he still just looked sad. "I'm sure he'll take care of himself, Mulder," she said. Cetus licked her wrist.

"Maybe he can sniff out some clues, like Lassie," said Mulder. He knelt beside her, petting the dog's fluffy neck. "You have any ideas where the Kraken is?" he asked, quite seriously.

Cetus regarded him for a moment before licking the side of his face. Scully laughed. "You're very helpful," Mulder said, wiping his cheek and patting the dog on the head again. "Maybe we need a mascot," he said, getting to his feet and extending a hand to Scully to help her up.

"I don't think so," she said, meaning to tease, but the words came out sharper than usual. She was thinking about Queequeg. She'd felt so stupid that night, bringing her dog on a case; what the hell was she thinking? Of course he was in danger. And now here she was again, all fucking over again. This dog had come of its own accord, but still; what if something happened to him? She looked down at Cetus, who was nudging at her leg again, almost insistently.

Mulder nudged her arm, in a manner almost similar to the dog. When she looked at him, his expression was unreadable. "Should we check out the inside of the boat?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. He started towards the cabin, and she followed, Cetus right at her side.

Almost as soon as they stepped inside, the skies opened up, rain pounding the decks, lightning slashing across the sky.

\---

The inside of the boat smelled like fish, a sharp smell that hit them in a wave as soon as they opened the door. The interior was nice enough, a small living space with tables and built-in couches, a small kitchen and a tiny bathroom, but the space was littered with coolers: some open, some closed and undoubtedly in the midst of storing fish. A variety of knives and tools were all over the table, suggesting that Richard Kellerman had done his own preparations for the fish he caught.

“Sorry about the mess,” Jacob offered in a voice that didn’t seem exactly sincere. “Dad always left things a mess, and I hadn’t gotten the chance to clean up.”

“It’s no trouble,” said Scully. She didn’t want to say it out loud, but she knew it was probably for the better that nothing had been moved. “We just wanted to look around a bit and see if we could find any evidence.”

Jacob didn’t turn around, staying bent over the wheel. “Look all you want.”

A clap of thunder seemed to shake the tiny cabin. Cetus yelped in fear and ducked under one of the tables. The boat swayed with the momentum of the waves. They had already pulled far away from the land.

Scully turned to Mulder and asked, “How are you feeling?” softly, remembering his seasick tendencies.

He nodded, leaning in closer so that she could hear him and whispering, “I took a couple of dramamine before we left.”

She nodded in return, stepping back to survey the cabin. The place was a mess, but it seemed to be a very organized mess. No visible signs of a struggle, no signs of damage. The two of them walked the entire length of the inside—opening and closing cabinets, crouching on the floor and peering underneath things. Scully pulled the trash can (the one used for manmade trash, instead of the trash bags where Kellerman stored the leftover fish parts) out and began rummaging through it, shooting pointed looks at Mulder as she retrieved empty bottles of Aquavit and set them upright beside her like dominoes. Kellerman was probably drunk the day he went missing. She’d suspected it, but this all but confirmed it. The only other things in the can were candy wrappers, crumpled pieces of silver duct tape and what looked to be half of a roll of duct tape sitting solidly at the bottom, and remnants of old meals.

Mulder had found what appeared to be Kellerman’s collected Kraken information. There was everything from pages ripped out of books to maps of previous sightings to a handwritten journal and blurry pictures that appeared to be Kellerman’s. When she came to sit beside him at one of the tables they had cleared off, he showed her a crooked photo of churning waves and what looked like part of the boat. “I don’t see anything,” she said. Cetus slumped against her, sitting on top of her feet as she settled in, and she reached under the table to scratch his back.

“Here,” he said, his knee pressing against hers as he leaned forward to show her. He pointed to a blurry mass out among the waves, a large, indiscernible shape. “It could be part of a tentacle.”

“Hmm.” She sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know, Mulder.”

Mulder was back to rummaging through the files, reading over Kellerman’s notes. “It looks like he was looking pretty hard,” he said. “For a long time.”

Feeling awkward discussing the subject with Kellerman’s son close by, Scully looked over at him self-consciously. Jacob gave no indication as to whether or not he was listening; he was staring determinedly off into the distance, his face as still as stone. He had barely spoken to them the entire trip. Scully sensed he resented their presence, resented having to tote two foreign law enforcement officers around to look for his father, who was probably dead, in order to appease his mother, who believed the cause of the disappearance was something he clearly didn’t believe in. Of course he wasn’t too happy with the situation. And they shouldn’t discuss their theories as to what happened to his father in his presence.

She nudged Mulder’s shoulder and motioned towards the door. He nodded in silent agreement, even though the rain was still pouring down, soaking the deck of the boat. They stood together and headed out, Scully sliding her feet out from under Cetus. He whimpered resolutely, staying put under the table. They pulled their hoods over their heads as they stepped out, huddling shoulder to shoulder under the eaves of the boat’s cabin.

“Nice night for a monster hunt,” Mulder shouted over the roar of the wind and the spatter of the rain.

“Mulder, I don’t think Richard Kellerman was attacked by the Kraken,” she called back. “Everything we’ve seen suggests that his death was an accident. There were no signs of distress on a boat—which would’ve been inevitable with a hypothetical creature that size—and no signs of a struggle. And the bottles of alcohol all but confirm it.”

“It confirms that he was drinking at some point on the boat,” Mulder said, leaning closer despite his loud voice so he could hear her better. She could feel his warmth due to his close proximity, even through the cold air and the slicing rain, and she shivered a little. “It doesn’t necessarily mean he was drinking that night. And remember, people have been on the boat since Kellerman’s disappearance. There’s a possibility that any mess on board the boat could’ve been cleaned up.”

“Mulder, we’re not the first ones investigating this disappearance,” she pointed out. “Remember, Mary Kellerman said the local police are looking for Kellerman. I’m assuming that they’re looking for a body, or at least that they believe Kellerman is responsible for his own disappearance. He could’ve left voluntarily, or he could’ve drowned…”

“Your theories are valid, Scully, but I don’t think any of them disprove the idea that the Kraken could’ve been involved. I haven’t seen any evidence to the contrary. And we know that Kellerman was looking for it…”

“You said it yourself, Mulder. The fact that the boat is intact damages the theory,” she reminded him, her shoulders hunched up and her hands in her pockets in an effort to keep warm. She hadn’t wanted to discuss the case in front of Jacob, but maybe coming outside was a bad idea. Maybe the whole damn trip was a bad idea. In those days after her most recent hospital stay (she’d been to the hospital so much in the past three years, it almost made her sick to her stomach), she’d just wanted to go back to work, wanted things to be normal again, but as soon as she’d stepped into the X-Files office, it had felt wrong. She felt ashamed every time she looked at Mulder, filled with regret at what she’d almost done, what she’d done before. She had shot him before, Modell reminded her, his snakeish smug voice echoing as he held Mulder’s life in his hands. Mulder had almost shot himself but couldn’t pull the trigger on her; meanwhile, she would’ve shot him to save herself. She didn’t trust herself around him, but she’d agreed to Norway because she thought it wouldn’t be as bad as a real case. But maybe they shouldn’t have come.

Mulder was talking, the wind carrying his voice away. She hadn’t heard him. “—still have the rest of the fishing route,” he was saying. “We might still have a chance to see…”

A gust of wind, stronger than the previous ones, blew over them, sending Scully stumbling back a step or two. It wailed over them, howling in her ears, and blew an almost comically large piece of tarp off of a bright orange boat, positioned in a manner where it could be lifted and lowered over the side of the boat manually. A lifeboat. It swayed with the pressure of the wind as the tarp flew backwards into the ocean, swayed next to two empty cables dangling beside it.

Scully shielded her eyes, taking a few tentative, instinctual steps towards the now-uncovered lifeboat, but she was knocked back a bit by a massive wave hitting the side of the boat. The boat rocked hard to one side, and the chilly sea water sloshed catastrophically onto the deck, smacking Scully hard in the face and soaking her immediately from head to toe. She heard Mulder’s voice rise behind her; she stumbled further back, sputtering and wiping the water from her face, when she felt his cold wet hand curl around hers. She stepped back under the eaves, her shoulder against the window, and turned to look at Mulder, who was as soaked as she was. His eyes were wide with a stunned sort of worry. “Are you okay?” he shouted, concern in his voice.

She pushed sodden hair behind her ears with shaking fingers, blinking water out of her eyes. “Of course, Mulder,” she shouted back. “It’s just water.” But the concern on his face didn’t fade.

Too late, she realized she should’ve asked about him, and felt her cheeks flush red. She was about to say something—an apology, maybe—when someone rapped on the window behind them.

It was Jacob Kellerman. He gave them a look that suggested he thought they were a little crazy, and motioned for them to come inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some warnings up front for some violence and peril.

**two.**

The storm didn’t calm any after Mulder and Scully went back into the cabin of Jacob Kellerman’s boat; if anything, it seemed to rage harder, the rain drumming at the roof so hard, it sounded as if it might come through, and the wind howling and rattling the windows, shaking the boat extraordinarily hard. The cabin was fairly warm and dry, thankfully, considering their shivering state as seawater dripped off of them. Cetus stuck his head out curiously, licking drops of water off the floor.

Jacob wanted to continue to keep an eye on the steering—”In weather like this,” he said, “it’s good to stay alert.”—but he pointed them in the direction of a change of clothes and blankets, folded in a cabinet next to the couch-like seats, all coveralls and workpants and jackets. “It’s a little informal, but it is dry,” he said.

They took turns changing in the small bathroom. Mulder insisted that Scully go first, and she tried to tell him that he should go first, but he won the argument, as he usually did. She changed quickly in the tiny space, her elbows banging against the walls, and slipped out, sitting on a couch-like area near the table where Mulder had the Kraken photos laid out while he took his turn.

Cetus poked his head out from under the table, his eyes still mournful and pleading. Without thinking too hard about what she was doing, she patted the surface beside her. The dog, still fearful, scampered up to lay beside her, resting his head on her lap. He was a large, warm weight in her lap, staring up at her in that dog manner of _please give me attention,_ and tears were welling up in her eyes before she could stop them. She shut her eyes, feeling the tears bud up warmly below her lids, and stroked Cetus’s shaggy head. She’d missed Queequeg so much in these past few weeks. It still hurt to think about. Something else to blame herself for, someone else she’d lost to stupidity. And it felt a little wrong, to be sitting here with a dog so soon after Queequeg, but she didn’t have the strength to move. She was probably the only person on this boat willing to comfort the dog.

“I’m sorry about the mutt,” someone said, and it took Scully a few moments to figure out that it was Jacob Kellerman, confirming her suspicions. She opened her eyes, wiping hurriedly at her cheeks, but Jacob wasn’t looking at her. He was still staring out into the storm, his jaw clenched irritably. “He should get off if you tell him to.”

She swiped a few more times at her eyes, and said in a voice she desperately hoped was steady, “Oh, no, no, it’s okay.” She reached down to scratch Cetus’s head again, petting him in a vigorous way that left his tail wagging wildly. “I like dogs.”

Mulder exited the bathroom, dressed in notably drier clothes. As he turned to her, a familiar expression of concern flickered across his face. "Scully? Are you okay?" he asked softly.

She nodded, looking down instinctively at Cetus's huge paws. "I'm fine," she said, her voice cracking.

She heard footsteps creaking on the floorboards, and then Mulder sliding in beside her, their knees knocking together. Almost as soon as he sat down, Cetus climbed further into Scully's lap, resting his chin on Mulder's thigh, his paws wedged awkwardly between them. "Sweet mutt," he said good-naturedly, tousling the dog's gray fur. The dog huffed happily.

Mulder gave him a few more pats before reaching out to touch Scully's hand where it lay on the dog’s back, and it was too much. She didn't think they'd touched, really touched (aside from falling asleep on him on the plane), since before the incident. She bit her lip hard and murmured, "Mulder, I told you, I'm fine."

His hand was covering hers, in a tentative sort of way, and she didn't want to look at him, but she did, and the guilt and resentment and confusion and affection enveloped her all over again. She could still remember looking into his eyes and thinking about how to kill him, and the memory made her want to throw up. She hated herself immensely. It had been just a few months, and they'd both almost killed each other, and it was too much, and too soon, and she didn't deserve his comfort or his concern, and she was still a little mad at him about Queequeg, and she just wanted things to be normal between them. He was her best friend, and she wanted things to be normal, and she didn’t want to resent him, and she was exhausted and embarrassed, and she pulled her hand out from under his and ducked her head, praying she wouldn't cry again. She wished that she could go somewhere and be alone, but out on the ocean like this, there was absolutely nowhere to go.

Cetus, still lying on top of the both of them, whined and butted his head against Mulder’s elbow. Mulder didn't try to take her hand again. For one long moment, she wished he would.

"There are things for sandwiches in the cabinets, if you're hungry," Jacob said from the front of the boat. "I, for one, am."

Scully cleared her throat and pushed a little at Cetus's side. "Go on, boy," she said gently, and Cetus went amicably, lying near the table he'd hidden under before. She turned to Mulder and offered him a small, shaky smile, but it felt inauthentic, and she looked away quickly. She went to the kitchen area and took out a stale-looking loaf of bread, and jars of peanut butter and jelly.  After a moment, Mulder came and joined her.

They made four sandwiches—Mulder made two for himself, and slathered some peanut butter messily on two pieces of bread, which he gave to the dog. They ate at the table, pushing aside the pictures and papers. Cetus chewed noisily and curled up under the table again. The rain drumming the roof above them seemed to slow gradually, until Jacob finally stood and came over to join them. “I think we have reached the calm in the storm,” he said. “We can drift for a bit.”

“One of us could take over for a while, if you need to sleep,” Scully offered. She wasn’t entirely confident in her boat driving skills after the crash at Heuvelmans Lake, but she also didn’t want to risk crashing because their host was sleep deprived.

“I’m fine.” Jacob Kellerman sloshed together a sandwich that was actually messier than Mulder’s before pulling a bottle that matched the ones Scully had pulled out of the garbage and pouring himself a glass. “Aquavit?” he asked, extending the bottle towards them. They both shook their heads. Jacob took a long swig from the bottle before sitting at the table next to Mulder. “This boat used to be much nicer,” he said. “My mother would clean it, and we’d have days out at sea in the summer, picnicking and swimming. Now my father never cleans, never brings any decent food, and fills the whole place with rotting fish. Wasting away.”

He’d referred to his father in the present tense, Scully noticed, and remembered that he’d said that his father might not be dead. She wondered idly what _he_ thought happened to his father.

Mulder was clearly thinking the same thing. “Mr. Kellerman, you said you don’t believe in the Kraken?”

Jacob took a swig of alcohol and let out a low burp. “I do not.”

“Can I ask why?”

Jacob sighed heavily, letting his face fall forward into his hands. “My father has been obsessed,” he muttered. “Ever since we moved, he’s been obsessed. I don’t know why—maybe he was bored out here at sea, or maybe he needed something to devote time to, and my mother and I weren’t enough. But since I was a child, he’s been single mindedly obsessed with it, to the point of neglect. He only wants to talk about the Kraken, to think about the Kraken. If he reads the book, it will have the Kraken, or something like it, in it. He wasn’t afraid of it; he was _fascinated_ by it. It was all he could talk about, all he could think about, and it only got worse as time passed. He would entertain me with bedtime stories about pirates who had bested the beast, or unfortunate sailors who had not been so lucky. I had nightmares for years.” He lifted his head and took another swig from his cup, wiping futilely at his face. “My mother was sick last year,” he added quietly. “She is better now, but for a while, it looked like she wouldn’t make it. And my father was unable to turn away from his obsession long enough to pay attention to her.”

The cabin was growing darker, and Scully couldn’t see Mulder’s face. She looked down at her hands. Richard Kellerman sounded a little like Captain Ahab, except worse; this was Ahab for no reason, Ahab without a motivation. Revenge for the loss of your leg seemed to make more sense than neglecting your family for a fruitless obsession, and she could understand Jacob’s resentment more than ever now. (She could remember vividly telling Mulder that _he_ was like Ahab, on that rock in the lake, but she didn’t want to think of Mulder like that. He wasn’t like that, not to that degree; she didn’t think he was like that.)

 “I’m sorry,” Mulder offered. His voice sounded a little unsteady. Scully wondered if he was thinking of that night on the lake, too.

Jacob shrugged angrily, taking another bite of sandwich and speaking around it. “It looks as if his obsession has finally caught up to him.”

“But you don’t believe in the Kraken,” said Scully, almost surprising herself.

His jaw was quivering, as if he was emotional, on the verge of tears. “No.” He took another gulp of drink, his eyes half-shut. “But I think he was out here looking. And whatever happened to Dad, I think it was because of his own carelessness. A lapse in attention to his duty that was instead focused towards the fucking Kraken.” His voice was full of disgust. “Maybe he thought he saw the beast, and fell overboard trying to get a glimpse. Something like that.”

Scully didn’t know what else to say—she admittedly agreed, but she didn’t want to say that to Jacob. Mulder didn’t say anything, either, and the swaying ship was nearly silent. Cetus had fallen asleep on the floor, and was snoring quietly. A clap of thunder sounded above them, so loud and deep it seemed to shake the boat a little.

“It’s strange that it’s so dark,” said Jacob suddenly. He stood and threw the remainder of his sandwich in the trash, scooped up the Aquavit and poured himself another glass. “It’s getting later in the year, closer to the midnight sun. The sun sets later and later each night. It should still be bright out.”

Mulder nudged Scully, as if to indicate that he found that meaningful. Scully offered, “It’s probably the storm.”

“Yes, but are daytime storms as dark as night time storms?” Jacob waved a hand at the window, where it was nearly pitch black. She could see the white railing of the ship, and then nothing past it.

A particularly large wave hit the side of the boat, swaying it nearly on its side, and Mulder made a small sound of discomfort. Scully’s hand immediately went to his arm, almost automatically. “Seasick?” she asked, and he nodded. “Do you have any more Dramamine?”

“Ran out,” he muttered, and she could nearly see him wincing. When had it gotten so dark in here? Places always seemed to get dark without anyone noticing. “Stupid of me not to bring more.”

“I have some,” Jacob offered. He finished his cup of Aquavit in one gulp, and turned to rummage through a drawer. “Do you also want some?” he asked, tipping his chin in Scully’s direction.

“Oh, no, thank you,” she said.

Jacob came up with something and crossed the room, handing Mulder two white, round pills and the Aquavit bottle. “To wash it down with,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Mulder, and swallowed the pills dry. Aside from the fact that they stayed sober when they were on duty—and this certainly felt like duty—they both knew it was a bad idea to drink alcohol with pills.

Jacob shrugged and took the bottle back, drinking heartily directly from it. “What about you?” He was addressing Scully now, extending the bottle to her. “Are you sure you don’t want some? On a wild night like this, some spirits might be useful. Help to ease your mind.” He thrust the bottle towards her hand, sloshing a bit on her shoes.

“No, I’m okay,” Scully said with a sigh. “Thank you, though.”

Jacob sighed, as if she had annoyed him, and took a long swig from the bottle, finishing the last of the liquid. “I should go and check the outside of the boat,” he said, burping again and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He was getting close to being drunk, if he wasn’t already there. “Make sure everything is okay. No damage. You two should get comfortable; we are in for a long night.”

“By the way, your tarp blew off the boat earlier, while we were outside,” Mulder said as Jacob stepped towards the door.

He turned towards them in confusion or in recognition; Scully wasn’t sure. “T-the tarp covering up the lifeboats?”

There was only one lifeboat, but Scully dismissed it to a mishearing, or more likely to Jacob’s drunkenness. “Yes, the one overtop of the lifeboat,” she said. “It blew overboard.” She could remember the awkwardly flapping edges, the way it bent in on itself like a large, crumpling piece of paper.

"Shit.” Jacob shook his head wildly. “I will be back,” he said, before stepping out into the stormy night. Between the door opening and closing, a harsh breeze blew in, leaving Scully shivering.

“You cold?” Mulder asked, attempting to stand up. “Jacob said there were blankets.”

“Oh, no, I’m okay, Mulder.” She put her hand on his arm to stop him. “I don’t want to get too comfortable; I don’t want to fall asleep.” The sweater she’d taken from the drawer was probably too warm as it was, but it was incredibly comfortable, despite the lingering smell of fish.

Mulder yawned loudly as he sat back down. “I’m not sure I can join you,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “I guess the jet lag is getting to me.”

“We’re six hours ahead of home, Mulder,” said Scully. “You should be more _awake_ , not more tired. It’s still the middle of the day to our bodies”

He shook his head hard, as if to wake himself up. “Maybe the insomnia is catching up to me.”

“Or maybe Jacob gave you the drowsy type of Dramamine.” She folded her arms over her chest. Mulder rubbed a hand over his face. “Go on to sleep if you’re tired, Mulder,” she added. “I’m not tired. I’ll keep watch.”

“N-no, you don’t have to stay up,” he said, immediately sitting up straighter. “I’m okay. I’ll stay up.”

“Okay, Mulder,” she said a little indulgently, not really believing him and not really caring. He slept so sporadically, and she was always encouraging him to try and get on a regular schedule; the least she could do was let him sleep when he was tired.

“The dog’s snoring will probably keep me up, anyway,” he added, gesturing to the place where Cetus was lying with a flick of his chin.

“You’ll be fine.” She slid down in her seat, getting comfortable.

“It’s very loud.” He was silent for a moment as he slid down a bit in her seat, his shoulder nudging against hers. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to pull away. She shut her eyes and felt that same bit of self-loathing rise in her throat. She didn’t know if she’d ever forget how close she came to shooting her best friend. She didn’t know if she’d ever forgive herself for having done it already.

As if he’d read her mind, he spoke sleepily from beside her, saying, “I’m sorry, Scully.”

“What?” She was startled, turning to look at him. “Sorry for what, Mulder?”

His eyes were closed as he spoke. “Sorry for… for bringing you to Norway.”

She clenched her fingers tight around her elbows. “Oh, Mulder,” she muttered. “That’s okay.”

“I keep fucking up,” he mumbled. “You didn’t want to come to Norway.”

“It’s just a case.” _Or a research trip,_ she corrected silently.

“I almost get you killed. I-I _keep_ almost getting you killed. I don’t pay attention, and it’s your dog, it’s your sister… it’s you.”

The words hit her in the chest like an anvil, and she felt herself tearing up. So much resentment, and yet she couldn’t really blame him. She followed him, and she kept on doing it, and she didn’t know how to do anything different. She wanted to follow him, to be with him, and it was _her_ fault, not his, and tears were sliding down her cheeks. It wasn’t his fault, but she’d thought that at one time or another, and she’d blamed him. She had blamed him for Melissa. Blamed him for her abduction. She could remember it; the memory was hazy, but it was there. The weight of the gun in her hands. Her best friend. She wanted to apologize, but all she could get out was, “Mulder, no.”

“Thought I lost you,” he mumbled. His head lolled heavily on her shoulders, and the weight of it was such a relief.

She bit back a shaky sob, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath, blinking so hard that her eyes hurt. Her stomach hurt. She bit her lower lip and whispered, “Mulder, I am the one who should be apologizing, okay? Not you.”

But he didn’t respond. He was already asleep.

\---

Scully didn't remember falling asleep. But when she woke up, Mulder was still asleep, slumped against her, her head against his. The cabin seemed darker, somehow; someone had turned off the light. And Cetus was barking.

She blinked foggily, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. Mulder, still dead asleep, fell back against the leather of the booth. "Hush," she murmured automatically, a reflex from Queequeg, before she remembered and winced.

Cetus did not hush. He was barking in an insistent way, a way that indicated that something was wrong.

Scully blinked a few more times, getting to her feet. She ran her hand along a wall and found a light switch, flipped it and let the dim overhead light sparkle to life. Cetus was standing at attention, turned towards the door, barking insistently. "Hey," she whispered, kneeling beside the dog and putting her hand on his head. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Cetus broke off into growls, still staring at the door. She ruffled his fur absently and scanned the cabin. Everything looked normal, if dimly lit. The boat was still rocking with a steady precision. The counter where they'd made their sandwiches was still littered with jars and dried peanut butter; a couple of the coolers on the floor had overturned, spilling fish corpses across the floor. It took Scully a few look-throughs to realize what was wrong: Jacob Kellerman wasn't in there.

Cetus snarled, scratching at the door desperately with his large paws. Behind her, Mulder said groggily, "Scully? What's going on?"

"Jacob Kellerman is missing," she said, her mind racing. Things were starting to piece themselves together, just a little bit; she wasn't sure, but she was suspicious enough. She was remembering how annoyed he’d seemed when she refused the Aquavit a second time. She got to her feet and ran first to the drawer that Jacob had gotten Mulder Dramamine from and yanked it open. There was no Dramamine—maybe he'd run out, maybe not—but there _was_ an empty wrapper for sleeping pills. Sleeping pills. More sleeping pills, that looked like the little white pills they’d thought was Dramamine.

"What?" Mulder was asking. "Where is he?"

She rummaged for her gun instinctively before she remembered she didn't have it. It was at home, in her apartment in DC. She hadn't thought she would need it, she hadn't trusted herself to have it. Maybe she still wouldn't need it; maybe she'd misjudged him, or maybe she was wrong. Still, she said, "I think he's outside," and ran for the door, yanking it open and letting it slam behind her. She had to know for sure.

A fog had settled over the boat, so thick that Scully could barely see two feet in front of her. She stumbled forward a few feet, a little blindly, before a light became visible, rising dimly out of the thick fog. She heard the door behind her open, and Mulder call out, "Scully?"

She kept walking, following the light until she got close enough to see its source: an electric lantern, balanced on top of the bright orange lifeboat, suspended over the ocean, ready for boarding. And Jacob Kellerman, wearing a life jacket. "Jacob," she started, but stopped immediately when she felt a knife point bite lightly into her stomach.

"Don't come any closer," Jacob growled, clutching the handle of the knife. "Hold still."

Scully held up her hands slowly, an attempt to seem nonthreatening. "It's okay," she said slowly. "I don't have a weapon. Let's just stay calm, okay?"

"Scully?" Mulder stepped beside her before freezing, his eyes wide. "What's going on?" he asked in a careful, concerned voice.

"Don't move. Don't move, or I will hurt her," Jacob said in a frantic, angry voice. Mulder nodded, his eyes wide, raising his hands along with her.

"I really wish the two of you had stayed asleep," Jacob muttered, his hand clenched harder around the knife. The point ripped a bit at her shirtfront, and Scully tried not to wince, tried to keep her breathing level. (At least it was her, she thought for one wild moment, and not Mulder.) "I could be halfway gone by now."

"Why do you need to leave? Where are you going?" Mulder asked carefully. "I don't understand what's happening, Jacob."

Jacob's eyes shut, and he shook his head rapidly, like a stubborn child. Refusing to speak. So Scully took a deep breath and spoke, in the same careful manner as Mulder. "He's behind his father's disappearance, Mulder," she said steadily.

Mulder looked at her with astonishment, but Jacob winced, his face reddening, his hand shaking. "Don't _say_ it like that," he whispered, his words slurring. "I did not mean for it to go this way. I didn't want to hurt him."

"What are you talking about?" Mulder asked, looking between them.

But Jacob wasn't listening. He opened his eyes and looked at Scully. He looked like a man being sent to his death. "How did you figure it out?" he asked softly. His hand was still shaking; she could feel the quivering knife blade against her stomach with every uneven breath.

"Little things didn't add up,” she said. She was thinking about distracting him, about giving them time to come up with a plan to get out of this. “The fact that your father's boat ended up back at the harbor despite supposedly being empty. It seemed strange that there was almost an entire roll of unused duct tape in the trash. The tarp covering your lifeboat seemed too large for just one boat, and you referred to the lifeboat like there was more than one earlier. I also saw that there were empty cables adjacent to the lifeboat. You kept offering us Aquavit in the cabin earlier, and Mulder seemed to fall asleep awfully quick after you gave him those pills. When I looked in the drawer, I found sleeping pill packets." Jacob was nodding, his chin trembling. "You… you hid on the boat, didn't you?" Scully continued. Her own hands were shaking a little, driven by the anxiety of the situation. "You subdued your father and put him onto the lifeboat, setting him adrift. You drove the boat back to shore, and snuck back to your home, and left people to discover that your father was missing. And when you brought us out as a favor to your mother, you hoped you would be able to get us drunk or asleep and abandon the boat yourself."

Jacob's chin was trembling. "I-I didn't think you would figure it out."

Mulder took a deep breath beside her. "Why did you do it, Jacob?"

"Why the hell _wouldn't_ I do it?" he nearly shouted, his hand shaking even harder. Scully winced again as the knife nicked her, just a little, and she felt Mulder tensing beside her. She hated this constant trend they had of being held at gunpoint (or knife-point). At least this time, one of them wasn't the one holding the weapon.

Jacob was still shouting, ranting. "That bastard neglected me all my life! Made everything revolve around a fucking squid! And it didn't even stop when I grew up and moved out! I couldn't get a life of my own! My mom—his _wife_ —gets ill, possibly fatally, and he can't even look up for long enough to take her to treatments! That responsibility goes to me! He never gave a fucking shit; he only pretended to. He would've left my mom alone to die while he was off chasing the fucking Kraken. He deserved to learn a fucking lesson." He took a step closer to Scully and the knife shifting, the sharp, long edge of the blade lying flat against her jacket.

"Jacob, calm down," Mulder said sharply, an edge to his voice. "I know you're upset, but you don't need to do this. You don't need to kill again."

" _Again_?" Jacob laughed wildly, shaking his head. "I didn't kill him! I wanted to punish him, but I never _meant_ to kill him! Never! I just wanted to scare him. I thought if I set him adrift for a little while, scared him, I-I might… be able to… make him into a better man. A better husband for Mom." His eyes shut again; in the dim, foggy light, Scully thought she saw tears glittering under his eyelids. "I didn't _kill_ him."

"Okay, Jacob," said Mulder quickly, trying to calm him. "Okay. But what's going to happen if you kill her?"

"You don't understand a goddamn thing." The knife blade wasn't quivering anymore. It was a cool, hard presence that was steady and sharp, and Scully was finding it harder to stay calm. "I lied to you, before," Jacob said, and his voice was the steadiest it had been since they'd came out here. "About the Kraken."

"What about it? What about the Kraken?" Mulder's voice was sharp, his worried eyes on Scully. The sky crackled ominously with thunder, a cold wind washing over them.

"It killed my father." Jacob's voice was equally sharp. He met Scully's eyes; his expression was somehow steely and fearful all at once. Looking at the man, Scully wondered how she didn't see that he was guilty sooner. He'd hid his tracks well, to the point where her theory seemed a little off base, but his shifting moods should've been a clue-in from the beginning: his anger, his standoffish behavior. She wondered how drunk he was. She wondered how much of his sanity was left.

"I watched my father's lifeboat floating out in the ocean, and then I saw that… _thing_ rising out of the waves." Jacob's voice was suddenly quivering. "It was enormous. Unbelievably enormous. It rose up out of the depth, and it grabbed my father and the lifeboat all at once, and it swallowed him whole. I _saw_ it. It was fucking real, and it happened on a day just like today."

The thunder clapped again. The skies opened up, the rain and the fog enveloping them both. The lifeboat swayed, the lantern quivering. Scully didn't know what she believed about the Kraken—she could barely think about that now—but she knew that she was scared. She was terrified that Jacob would kill them both. "Jacob…" she started in a soft voice.

"And it's coming for you now." His voice was low, warning. "I have to get out of here. I was going to leave you for it. It takes the two of you, and it will leave me alone, right?"

Scully took an unsteady breath, shivering in the rain. The boat was rocking, harder than before, and her stomach rolled unexpectedly. Inside, she could hear Cetus barking frantically. "Jacob, there is no such thing…"

"How do you know that it won't come for you?" Mulder's voice was tight, angry. "It came for your father in the lifeboat. Why wouldn't it come for you?"

Jacob was breathing raggedly. "I got away from the motherfucker once, and I can do it again," he snarled. His wrist moved, and the knife bit into Scully's stomach, just a bit, slicing the fabric. She gasped with the sting of pain—the knife hadn't penetrated the skin past a small cut, but it hurt.

That must have struck a nerve with Mulder, because he yanked out his gun in one swift motion, aiming it straight at Jacob. "Drop the knife and get the fuck away from her."

" _You_ drop your weapon." Jacob spoke coldly, his eyes steely. "I'll kill her. I'll kill your partner if you don’t let me leave. I am getting out of here. I will not fall victim to that beast."

Cetus was snarling and whimpering, his large paws hitting the cabin door. The sea was churning around them, the boat rocking wildly, to the point where Scully was a little afraid she would fall on the knife. Her heart was pounding so hard. "Y-you really think it's coming?" she stammered in disbelief.

Before he could answer, something hit the boat. Scully could hear the hard smack of it, could hear something crack. The boat tipped, sending Scully sprawling backwards; she rolled, instinctively, and managed to miss the tumbling Jacob and his knife. She heard Mulder's panicked call: "Scully?!" and answered quickly, "I'm okay!" She fumbled across the wet deck until her hand curled around the hilt of the knife, and she pulled it to her.

But Jacob didn't seem to be looking for the knife. He pulled himself up, a grim, resigned look on his face. "It's already here," he said softly.

Something hit the boat again, harder this time, and Scully went tumbling again, letting the knife go for risk of cutting herself. She could hear it skittering across the deck as she slid haphazardly into Mulder, scrambling for purchase; he grabbed her hand and held tightly, steadying her and whispering, "You okay?"

She nodded, but her eyes were glued to the deck before her, to the wildly swinging lifeboat. She watched as the electric lantern tumbled from its perch, watched it fly through the air. Watched as its flickering light illuminated something on the other side of the rail, something massive. Something with almost scaly skin, a massive torso. One bright yellow eye.

The lantern died as it hit the deck, leaving their vision in darkness. Scully couldn't breathe. She still could feel Mulder's hand in hers.

In the darkness, she saw a large shape rise and, purposefully, fall. She heard the crunch of what sounded like the deck of the ship. She heard Jacob's panicked shout.

She heard Mulder fumbling, his hand scraping the fabric of his pocket, and she turned slightly towards him as he pulled out a penlight. He switched it on, the tiny light catching Jacob's face. He was sprawled on the deck, his face full of pain and fear. Around him, there was a large gap on the deck, as if something had smashed right through it. Scully wondered wildly how long the deck would last.

Jacob's fingers scrabbled wildly at the deck. He turned his pleading eyes towards them, and said in a quivering voice, "Please—"

Before he could finish, a tentacle so enormously large, Scully could barely believe it—a tentacle half the size of the boat itself—slammed down beside Jacob's prone body. It coiled around him like a snake as he screamed, and its massive edge slammed down mere feet away from Mulder and Scully, who scrambled back, clutching to each other's arms as they stumbled to their feet. Mulder's pen light went off in the struggle, but Scully could still see the wriggling, dark shape of Jacob Kellerman as he fought, the sharp motion of him being dragged into the ocean. _It's real,_ she thought in one panicked moment, and she couldn't believe it.

"We have to get out of here," Mulder whispered frantically. "W-w-we have to… Scully, the lifeboat…"

Scully heard a wild, high whimper and barely even thought; she just moved, towards the door to the cabin, stumbling over splintered and broken-up boards. She yanked open the door and grabbed Cetus as he bounded out, rubbing his neck soothingly. "Shh, shh, it's okay," she whispered, gripping him gently by the scruff of his neck. She would not leave another dog to the mercy of a dangerous creature. She wouldn't. "C'mon, boy," she whispered, pulling Cetus along as she moved towards Mulder.

Mulder was trying to get to the lifeboat; he flicked his pen light back on and waved it in her direction, motioning her over. She tugged Cetus gently, stepping gingerly, but she froze in her tracks when she saw it. The monstrous tentacle rising over Mulder, directly over his head.

Her chest tightened, and she screamed, "Mulder, look out!" She let go of Cetus to dive at Mulder, shoving him hard out of the way as the tentacle slammed down. It caught her hard in the side, sent her sprawling in the mess of debris and slimy skin. She cursed instinctively; it felt like she'd cracked a rib. She tried to get to her feet, but something wrapped hard around her ankle and yanked her back down. She yelped with pain, kicking frantically at the tentacle as it tugged her backwards, towards the unforgiving ocean—or, if Mulder's stories were right, the beast's jaws. She gripped anything she could grab, the hard edges cutting into her palms, but the force was too strong, its grip crushing on her ankle. She was going to be pulled in. She wondered, briefly, if this was what Melissa felt.

"Scully!" Mulder's voice, anguished and desperate. She gripped the jagged edges of the broken rail of the boat, her heart pounding, her leg aching. She saw him standing on a patch of undisturbed deck, his gun aimed towards her. Her breath caught in her throat. For a millisecond, he was back in that hospital room, Mulder's eyes wide and teary and his finger tightening on the trigger.

And then he shot, the bullet hitting wetly behind her, and she felt relief and shame wash over her. The grip loosened, just a bit, and Scully heard an almost otherworldly shriek from down below them. She gripped the rail harder, trying to climb back up, and Mulder lunged forward, his knees cracking the weak material below him as he landed, his hands wrapping around hers. He tugged her up, fighting against the tug of the grip around her leg; she kicked out again, and felt the grip loosen slightly. Mulder's fingers tightened around.her wrists, and he pulled her up with one hard yank, scrambling backwards and tugging her with him in case the force came back. "You okay?" he gasped, his hands on the back of her shoulders, almost but not quite holding her.

She nodded, an instinctive hand to her side. "I think I cracked a rib," she said with a wince.

"C'mon." He helped her to her feet, the two of them moving towards the lifeboat, still miraculously hanging, ready to be lowered. The deck was in pieces, the cabin looking as if a tornado had torn through. Cetus sat on an unharmed piece of deck, quivering and whimpering.

A sudden, hard jerk threw them off balance, knocking them backwards onto the splintering deck. Scully felt her stomach roll as the ship began to move sharply, spinning in a circle, shaking rapidly. It felt as if it was moving downwards even as it sounds, being sucked under. "Maelstrom," Scully whispered, remembering what Helsing and Weberg had said on the dock.

Mulder helped her back to her feet, his hand curved around her elbow in support. Water sloshed over the deck, swirling black around their ankles  In a stumbling, sideways gait, they managed to get to the lifeboat. He laced his fingers together and gripped her foot, giving her a boost up, and she pulled herself onto the boat, lying sprawled briefly on the orange deck. She sat up with a pained grunt, reaching over the side for Mulder, to help him up, but he wasn't there. "Mulder?" she called in confusion, looking around desperately and finding him, moving away from the boat.

The water was still filling the crumpling deck, rising as she could feel them sinking. The water was up to Mulder's knees now. She called his name again, but he was still walking away. Her eyes jerked to follow his motion, his movements, and saw that he was headed for the dog. Cetus, halfway submerged in water, barking urgently and pleadingly. Mulder reached the dog and gripped him gently, moving him back towards the boat as the water level rose. Scully's eyes filled unintentionally with tears.

By the time Mulder reached the lifeboat, the water level had risen even further, lapping at his shoulders and nudging the lifeboat back and forth. Scully fumbled over the edge, grabbing for Cetus and pulling him over the side with effort. He whimpered, huddling in a ball against the side. Scully reached for Mulder next, and he took her hand and half-rolled over the side of the boat. He fumbled at his pocket again and came up with Jacob's knife, which he used to begin to saw at the cables holding up the boat. "Scully, can you working the steering?" he shouted over the roar of the water.

The ship was sinking into the maelstrom, but they might have just one wild chance to get out. Scully ran across the boat to the small steering wheel console, equipped to motor the boat back to shore. She prayed that the lifeboat had gas, prayed that it would somehow be enough to escape whatever the hell was trying to kill them. She tried to tell herself that Richard Kellerman had likely been restrained in that lifeboat, and wouldn't have been able to drive off anyway, that the fact that they could drive this lifeboat might give them more of a chance.

Mulder sawed at the cables quickly, severing one and running across the small deck to sever the other. Scully let her foot hover over the gas, her hands clutching the steering wheel. As soon as she felt the boat drop, she yanked the wheel hard, pulling it out of the wreckage of the larger boat and hitting the edge of the whirlpool full on. She could feel the tug of the maelstrom, but it only made her push the gas harder. The front part of the boat broke into clearer waters and she steered that way, feeling the back part go into a spin as it broke free. And then, suddenly, she felt a force slam down behind them into the ocean, a large wave pushing at the back of the boat, almost flipping it over. Scully cursed under her breath, keeping her foot plastered to the gas. She could hear Cetus whimpering. Behind her, she could hear the popping sound of Mulder firing his gun.

She looked over her shoulder, gingerly, and saw it. The thing that Mulder called the Kraken. She couldn't see the whole thing, but she could see the crest of its head, rounded with its glittering yellow eyes. Could see the dark, waving shape of an unspeakably massive tentacle, risen shadowily in the air, looming over them. Debris littered the dark, churning water around it. Jacob Kellerman was nowhere to be found.

Mulder pulled the trigger again, and he must've hit that time because Scully heard that same otherworldly shriek. Whatever it was, it was mad. The tentacle yanked back.

Scully looked away; she couldn't watch anymore. She kept her foot pressed to the gas and looked out on the horizon, foggy and pitch black.

\---

The rain had stopped. Scully didn't know how much time passed before they knew they were safe, before Mulder started to comfortably move around the boat again. He came over to the spot where she was driving and touched her shoulder gently. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

She nodded, turning slightly towards him and wincing as she did. "Fine. My ribs hurt a little, but I'll be okay until we get back to the mainland."

He nodded, his face serious. The two of them stayed silent, their eyes meeting, until he seemed to realize that he was still touching her shoulder. He took his hand away, so quickly Scully wondered if he was thinking about that moment on the boat. "Here, I'll drive for a while," he offered, tapping the dashboard with the flat of his palm.

"I'm okay, Mulder," she tried.

But he shook his head and motioned her away. "Get some rest," he said gently. "I've got this."

She nodded, only a little reluctant, and stepped aside, sitting gingerly with her back against the side of the boat, wincing as she went. Almost as soon as she'd say, Cetus was at her side, curling up beside her, warm despite his soaked fut. She draped an arm over his back, grateful for his presence. She still couldn't believe Mulder had gone back to save him. Cetus moved his wet paws to her lap and she relaxed, her hands tangled in his wildlife fur. She shut her eyes, exhausted. She could still hear Mulder, his foot on the gas, propelling the boat back to shore.

"Thanks for saving me back there," she murmured, and the memory made her face flush with shame. How the hell could she ever have thought he would shoot at her, even in an irrational split second? He'd resisted a man who could control people's actions in order _not_ to shoot at her, and he'd been so distraught and horrified in the aftermath… the same way she had been feeling ever since her own incident. She bit her lower lip and opened her eyes to look at Mulder, his still face against the gradually lightening sky.

She looked at Mulder, and saw his hands shaking, just a little, on the wheel. "Thanks for knocking me out of the way," he said softly.

"I had to," she said immediately, without thinking. She looked down at her hands in Cetus's fur, her chipped nail polish, and added quickly, "I didn't have my gun. So I wouldn't have been able to…" She trailed off, feeling foolish. It was incredibly stupid not to bring her gun. She hadn't thought she'd need it, but look what happened. She had managed to save Mulder, but she still needed her gun. If she'd had her gun while confronting Kellerman, they might've made it out of there sooner.

"You saw through Jacob Kellerman," said Mulder. "You figured him out. If you hadn't done that, who knows what would've happened? Or if we would've made it out?"

"It was pure luck," she said quietly. "I only figured it out because of the sleeping pills."

"Still, you figured it out. I didn't."

She shrugged, her muscles tense, her hand limp on the back of Cetus. "You were right about… that thing," she said quietly, and heard Mulder chuckle amusedly. "Still, it was irresponsible for me not to bring my gun. It was an inexperienced move, and I should have known better, even if it wasn't an official case."

Mulder was quiet for a moment, the only sound the slosh of waves against the boat and the buzz of the motor. "Scully, I want you to take all the time you need… if you're not ready to work cases…"

"I am," she said quickly. "I am. It was just… difficult to have my gun on me. After everything." Her jaw locked into place, and she looked away quickly. She could still see it, her gun pointed right at him as she accused him of all of these things.

Mulder took a shaky breath. "It was… it was like that for me, after Modell," he said. "I understand."

"Yeah," she said softly. As if sensing her mood, Cetus got to his feet and licked her cheek.  

"It's been a long few months," Mulder added, his head bent forward over the wheel. "A long _year._ A hard year. I…" His voice cracked, trailing off. "It's been hard."

“It has been,” she agreed, her voice husky. It was easy to forget at times, but Mulder had lost his father right around the same time she’d lost Melissa. He had been on the other end of every horrible thing she had said a few weeks ago, and with Modell, _he_ had been the one holding the gun. He was probably in as much pain as she was.

She remembered, suddenly, the conversation they’d had the night before when he was half asleep from the sleeping pills Jacob had given him. Something he’d said right before falling asleep. “Mulder,” she said softly, gingerly, “last night, you said that you thought that you lost me.”

There was a long moment of silence. When Scully looked up, she could see Mulder staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched. His hands shaking on the wheel. “Muder,” she said again, gentler this time, “did you… did you think I was going to leave, after what happened on the last case?” It was perhaps the only thing that made sense, because as far as she could tell, she had never been in danger; he had been the one to almost die, this time. She was speaking earnestly, quickly, because she needed him to know. “Mulder, I would never have… I didn’t mean those things I accused you of,” she said, because she’d told him in the hospital, but she needed to tell him again. “I don’t blame you for any of it. I hope you know that I would never willingly hurt…”

“Scully,” he was saying, holding up a hand, and then he was stopping the boat, letting it drift. He was taking his foot off the gas and turning to her, sitting down across  from her with his back against the control panel. The space was small; his feet lay on the deck next to her calves, his hands limp on his legs. His face was white. “Scully, you don’t need to apologize for any of that.”

“Mulder…”

“They thought that they found your body.” The words startled her; she froze, her fingers automatically clenching in Cetus’s fur. Mulder wouldn’t meet their eyes. “While you were missing,” he murmured. “They thought that they found your body, and they wanted me to identify it down at the morgue.”

Her chest tight, all she could manage was an uneasy, “Oh.” Mulder nodded.

The memory of thinking him dead last year was crowding her mind, in the period just before she lost Melissa, and she couldn’t imagine what he must have been feeling. Thinking she had lost him last year had been bad enough, but a part of her had believed that he was still alive. She couldn’t imagine going to the morgue to identify his body. “Mulder,” she said softly, and she leaned across the space between them and took his hand. “I’m okay. I’m still here.”

He squeezed her hand, holding it tightly. She didn’t let go. A part of her didn’t want to let go. They sat that way for a long moment, holding hands stretched over their small space.

Finally, Mulder spoke. “I’m sorry I took you to Norway.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “You said that last night.”

“I’m still sorry,” he said, but he was grinning a little, too, just slightly.

“We got out of it alive,” she said. “That’s what matters.”

“We’re still out at sea, Scully,” he pointed out, and she nudged him hard with her knee. He shrugged. “At least we got to see the Kraken.”

“We almost got killed by a giant squid,” Scully retorted. “I wouldn’t call that something to celebrate.”

“Or we survived a monster that few people actually escape. That’s worth celebrating in my book.”

“Mmm.” She slipped her fingers out of his gently, stroking the sleeping dog’s head. “It’s like you said, Mulder. The monster is just a species that hasn’t been discovered yet.”

“Too bad we didn’t get a picture of some sort.” Mulder tapped his foot against her leg. “We could’ve published an article.”

“Mulder, we’ve seen what looking for this animal does to people. Making its existence public would just send more people into a dangerous situation.” She sighed, her head falling back against the side of the boat. “Not to mention that we’re going to somehow have to explain to Norwegian law enforcement, and Mary Kellerman, what happened to Jacob Kellerman. I have a feeling the Bureau is not going to be very happy with us.”

“We have evidence on our side, even if it’s not a lot,” Mulder said. “I still have Kellerman’s knife, which hopefully still has Kellerman’s fingerprints on it. And Mary Kellerman can hopefully explain the reason she brought us here. Maybe Richard Kellerman’s friends can vouch for us, too.”

“Hmm.” Scully closed her eyes, utterly exhausted. “You’re going to explain this one to Skinner.”

He nudged her with his foot again, his leg warm against hers. “I will. I swear.”

\---

They got picked up by the Norwegian coast guard a few hours later, as the sun began to rise above the horizon. Onshore, they were met by the Norwegian police investigating Richard Kellerman’s disappearance, who had apparently already talked to Mary Kellerman. They didn’t seem overly happy of Mulder and Scully’s involvement in the case, but they didn’t seem overly distrusting, either. One officer drove Scully to the hospital to have her ribs looked at, at Mulder’s repeated insistence, while Mulder gave his statement to the others.

Scully gave her own account of the night to the female officer, including her conclusion that Jacob Kellerman had been behind his father’s disappearance. The officer didn’t look surprised. “We actually suspected him as well,” she said. “He had no alibi for the night that Richard went missing, and Mary Kellerman said that she couldn’t get in touch with him.”

The part she found the most suspicious was the part about the animal attack. “You think that… a giant squid attacked you?” she asked, a little incredulously.

“It was… something,” Scully said uncomfortably. “Some hit the side of the boat. It was so dark out that it was hard to confirm anything, or really see what it was… but it destroyed the ship, and it pulled Jacob Kellerman overboard.”

She couldn’t tell if the officer believed her or not, but she let the line of questioning end and left Scully to wait for the doctor. After she was confirmed to have two cracked ribs (she winced, remembering the weight that sent her flying), and had the small cut made from Jacob’s knife cleaned bandaged, she was released, and found Mulder waiting for her downstairs. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” he asked as he got to his feet and came to greet her. He was dressed in his own clothes now, having shed the wet, borrowed fishing clothes Scully was unfortunately still clad in.

“I’m fine. They gave me some painkillers,” she said, shrugging it off. “What happened with local law enforcement?”

Mulder shrugged. “They at least believe that Jacob Kellerman’s death was an accident,” he said. “They found traces of the sleeping pills in my system, and traces of your blood on the knife, and the Coast Guard found the wreckage of the boat. They apparently were investigating Jacob themselves, and suspected he was on the boat with his father; Mary said that they questioned her about his whereabouts.”

“You talked to Mary already?” Scully asked, sympathy immediately flooding her at the thought of Mary. She couldn’t imagine losing your husband and your son so close together like that.

Mulder nodded grimly. “She was very upset, particularly at the fact that Jacob was responsible for Richard’s death. She said she couldn’t believe he would do that.”

“It seems like everyone in her family failed her in one way or another,” said Scully, wincing. She’d write Mary a letter of apology when they got home. She at least owed her that. She was sorry they couldn’t save her son, sorry that they’d revealed that he was the one to kill his father. Despite Jacob’s denials, she knew that he’d at least taken away his ability to try to escape the beast, if not doomed him completely. “I feel horrible for her.”

“She was very shaken. A friend of hers came to pick her up, so at least she’ll have someone to stay with.”

They fell into a solemn silence as they began walking towards the door together. Mulder reached for Scully’s arm to try and support her as they walked. She sighed and let him; it was easier than arguing. “Have you talked to Skinner?” she asked.

He nodded, opening the door. “They called him, I guess to confirm that we were United States FBI agents. He vouched for us, but he’s not very happy.”

“Meaning?” She raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to get to the point.

“Meaning we might have some extra vacation days when we get back to DC.”

She sighed again, heavier this time, but she couldn’t be completely annoyed. As much as she was dying to get back into the field, she could probably use the extra time to recuperate from her latest injury, and to get in the right mindset for working in the field. Get used to having her gun again. “I should’ve known this little vacation would get me suspended,” she said, poking him in the arm. “You owe me one.”

“You can pick the next case, when we come back,” said Mulder. They were most of the way to the car; Scully’s forehead wrinkled in slight confusion when she saw that the back window was open. “Our flight’s in two hours. I went by the hotel to get our stuff; too bad we never got to stay there. It was a nice place.”

Scully nodded in agreement, remembering the sprawling view of the water. She looked down at her feet briefly and saw the gray fur still all over her borrowed pants. She remembered Cetus, then, and asked, “What happened to Cetus?” She was hoping that Mary Kellerman took him, for the company, before she remembered that Mary was allergic to dogs. She hoped that Mulder hadn’t just dumped him back at the docks.

“Oh, yeah,” Mulder said, a little sheepishly. “About that.”

They reached the car, and he motioned towards the back window. When Scully looked into, she saw Cetus sprawled across the floor of their rental car, adorned with what must’ve been a new collar and leash. When he saw her peering in, he opened his mouth wide in a goofy, canine grin and wagged his tail wildly. She smiled despite herself. “Mulder, what did you _do_?” she asked incredulously, opening the door and letting Cetus bound out.

“Whoa!” Mulder caught the dog by the paws before he could jump on Scully and lowered him to the ground. “I thought you might like to take him home with you,” he said tentatively, addressing her. “Mary Kellerman couldn’t take him—I asked, but she’s pretty severely allergic. And I didn’t think we should drop him back at the dock.”

“Oh, Mulder,” she muttered, not sure whether to thank him or roll her eyes at him. Cetus bumped his large head against her leg and she reached down to pet him.

“Scully, I-I know he’s not Queequeg,” Mulder offered, “and I’m not trying to replace him. We can take him back if you want. I just thought… considering everything, you might want some company.” Cetus licked her hand, and she smiled again. “And you know, this guy has already survived a cryptid attack,” he added. “Seems like good luck to me.”

“Mulder, you should quit while you’re ahead,” she told him, turning to shoot him a look. He shrugged in an apologetic manner, and she added a quiet, “Thank you,” her voice choked with gratefulness.

Cetus leaned over to lick Mulder’s hand affectionately. Mulder wiped his hand on his pants and patted the dog on the head. “At least this one actually likes me,” he said lightly, grabbing the leash and motioning Cetus in the car.

She bumped her shoulder against his, reaching in to give Cetus one last pat before she closed the door. “I suppose that is a perk.”

\---

They made their flight. Mulder figured out where to take Cetus so that he could travel on the plane, and paid the extra fees for his travel. Scully tried to convince him not to, but he insisted on it. “I’ve got to be nice to you so that you’ll pick a good case when the time comes,” he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

The flight was as long as the last one, stretching into the night, and Scully decided to take sleeping pills, hoping that sleeping for the flight would help with jet lag and stave off the pain. She fell asleep before takeoff and woke up in an awkward position, bent halfway over in her seat with her head lolling against Mulder’s shoulder. He must’ve taken her seatbelt off, because she couldn’t feel it cutting into her stomach or neck.

She sat up, with effort, and stretched gingerly, her eyes and mouth fuzzy, adjusting to the dark of the cabin. The pain in her ribs wasn’t as bad as it had been this morning, which she was grateful for. She’d thought Mulder was asleep, so it was a big startling when he turned to her, his eyes wide open in the dark. “Hey,” she murmured, yawning.

“Hey,” he whispered in response. He reached down to tap on the small window next to him. “I think I saw the Kraken down there.”

She yawned again, rubbing at her eyes. He was ridiculous, she thought with absent affection. “Somehow I doubt that, Mulder. We’re thousands of miles away from Norway, and we’re very high up. And it’s dark.”

“I think I saw a tentacle or something,” he said, leaning his seat back and motioning to the window. “Look.”

She leaned over him, gingerly, and looked. She didn’t have a very good view, but she could see the sky. And far below them, the endless black waves of the sea.

“Do you see it?” Mulder whispered. His arm pressed warmly against hers, leaning towards the window so he could look, too.

“No,” she whispered back. But she didn’t move. She stayed there with him, looking out the tiny window down at the sea, watching.


End file.
